From Sparks to Stories

  HRs, hebu kuja hapa, kwani hamna budget?  Anyway guys, if there's a question that sends shivers down my  spine, aquestion so terrifying that it surpasses the dreaded, "What are we?" that you might get from that lady you picked up from the club last month, then this question is none other than: "So, how much do you want us to pay you?" Now, I don't know about you, but I've found this question to be a source of great anxiety. It's like being asked, "What's your deepest, darkest secret?" but in corporate jargon. Why does it have to be this way?  Imagine it: you've aced the first few rounds of interviews. You've researched the company, prepared your best "what's your greatest weakness" response (spoiler: "I'm a perfectionist"), and worn your "hire me, I'm smart and also very nice" outfit. Then, it happens. The HR smiles at you, takes a sip of water, and drops the bomb: "So, how much d...

I know, it feels like I’ve taken a million years to get back to you. But hold up, guys—you can’t stone me for that! I was in love . If you were in my shoes, trust me, you’d get it. But don’t worry, I’m here now, flipping back to the pages we once shared. It was one of those whirlwind romances—full of light, late-night talks, and endless inside jokes. They built their love on shared dreams, stolen glances, and Ed Sheeran’s lyrics playing softly in the background. Everything seemed perfect, as if the universe had handed them a script destined to last forever. It was love in its purest form, a promise to grow old together, laughing through the wrinkles and savoring the slow passage of time. But, like many love stories, cracks began to form. Slowly at first, almost invisible. Then came that Sunday afternoon. One simple conversation, with the sun streaming through the window and their hands gently interlocked, would change everything. The words between them picked up speed, and before they ...